Dead or Alive
by IWantToRemainNameless
Summary: /Dead or alive, he'll love her forever./ When you've spent the majority of your life training to be a remorseless killer, how can you pick out love from the sea of emotions you hide? Clato one-shot. Rated T for character death.


**Hi, today I don't feel well so I'm trying to get a bit of writing done, I'm still stuck on Checkmate so in the future it might go up for adoption.**

**This is just a small Clato one-shot.**

**Disclaimer- I do not The Hunger Games.**

"Cato!"… "Cato!"

As soon as he heard her scream his name, he ran. Her voice carried on screaming and calling, filled with desperation and fear. He knew where to go, the Cornucopia. The two fought against each other over who should go to the feast, and, more importantly, who will get to kill Katniss, who would most defiantly be there to get medicine for Peeta. He didn't want her to go, and this is why. As soon as she sprinted off through the woods, he felt his hope die a little. Why? Maybe because they were the only two Careers left, maybe because she was his district partner, maybe because she was so small it would be wrong to put her in such danger, or maybe something else.

After finally getting through the seemingly endless woods, he saw no figures standing, no people fighting, he only saw the Cornucopia, the near empty table and the neatly grass swaying side to side in the warm breeze. Desperate, his head frantically searched the ground for the small girl. Slowly, he made his way to the Cornucopia, hoping to find Clove inside, waiting for an unsuspecting kill. On his way he tripped over something hidden in the grass. He knelt down by the object and saw what is was; Clove. His hope was suffocating now, dying a slow and painful death, crying out for help, for someone to bring it back to life. There was no blood on her, yet there were only sharp weapons. Without knowing, a whimper escaped his lips. Like a snake his head shot up, looking for the murderer, but like before, no one was there. He knew there were cameras, but he didn't care. As his vision blurred with tears he turned he from her side onto her back, moving her delicate body onto his lap. Once a few tears escaped onto her face, his vision became clear. Then he saw it, the cause of her untimely death. A medium sized dent was on her temple, obviously cause by a rock. Only one person was strong enough to do this, was merciless enough; Thresh, his new target. But at that moment in time, he wasn't thinking about killing the remaining tributes or even winning. He wanted to spend as much time with the lifeless body possible, before he has to leave it so the hovercraft could collect it. It, her, his dying hope, his dead hope.

He picked up her body and arranged it on his lap as if she were sleeping. Sleeping, that's a nice way to look at it, she's permanently sleeping. His thumb runs along the outline of her face, going down to close her eyes when he gets to her forehead.

He begs for her to stay with him, although he knows it's useless. He grips her hand with the might and strength he has left. She should've made it, she was a Career, and they could have got to the end together, but then what would they do? One of them would've had to die eventually, most likely from a painful death set up by the Gamemakers. But what if he'd died? She could've gone home, proud and happy. There's no point in thinking about the now, though.

As he runs out of tears to shed and his voice is so hoarse it's barely audible, he lays her on her back and places her knife in her hands. She looks like an angel, so innocent and pure, fragile and easy to break. That's not, or wasn't, her. She is an angel, just of her own kind. He takes his sword and throws it at the Cornucopia, imagining the face of, well, the Capitol on there. Caesar Flickerman, for making the whole thing seem like a joke and fun, the people of the Capitol, for not giving her something to help protect herself, Seneca Crane, for not doing something to have killed Thresh already, but the face that out shines the others is large, easy to hit; President Snow.

Why couldn't he just leave the past as the past? Not bring it up every year, flaunting their power over them. His puffed up lips saying the words "Welcome, and happy Hunger Games." But, at the back of his mind, Cato will always blame himself, for not protecting her, for letting her go.

He knows that he has to leave so the hovercraft can come, so he does one last gesture to show his emotions toward her. He kisses her. His cracked lips gently on her ice cold ones, almost expecting her to kiss back. He pulls back after a few seconds, taking one last glance at her before setting off to kill Thresh. Katniss is a big threat, but Thresh is the main target now.

Searching for the muscular boy, Cato realises something; he loves Clove. Dead or alive, he'll love her forever.

**Sorry if you think its rubbish but I really wanted to write a Clato fic. Please review,**

**-IWTRN x**


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